


MVP: Minimum Viable Population

by Lyricalvillain



Series: Resilience [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Asexual Character, Chaos, Character Death, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Modern Boy in Thedas, Modern Character in Thedas, Modern Girl in Thedas, Original Character Death(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:10:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7728211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyricalvillain/pseuds/Lyricalvillain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one shots and short stories depicting the fates of various displaced Earthlings in Thedas. Set in ‘Resilience’ Verse. Can be read on its own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this happened. I have so many displaced Earthlings in my head and needed somewhere to stashed them so I wouldn't lose them. Some of these guys will make it into Resilience once or twice. Some of them will not.

“This!” he sloppily swung his broadsword horizontally, teeth gritted, “WAS A HORRIBLE-“ he missed on the through swing “FUCKING IDEA!” The blade cut smoothly into an undead on the backswing and it dropped to the ground next to its brethren.

His sister laughed raucously from yards away hefting spells at what remained of the horde. Sharp nails raked along his left leg, scrabbling at his armor. He turned his frustrated gaze downward to see a zombie snarling, his foot had kicked straight through its chest earlier in a failed attempt to push it back. He had been too preoccupied with fighting off its undead buddies to shake his foot loose before.

With a cry of frustration (“FUCK!”) he drove his blade into its head, watching with satisfaction as it finally went still. He jerked his leg out of the gooey corpse and swung his sword back up ready to assault the next mummified corpse that hobbled his way. He was met with the amused smile of his younger sister.

 

She was clinging to her staff, slouching lazily, one leg cocked and hair messy and spattered with old black blood. “Relax. They’re all dead…again. I took care of it.”

“Sonavabitch.” Enoch snarled, dragging his boot across the ground. “So fucking gross! Why does everything want us dead?!”

“Re-thinking hiding out in the Exalted Planes?”

“We should start a travel agency.” He groused, now rubbing his boot in dirt to rid it of residual goo. “Make brochures for each horrible place in Thedas. ‘The Exalted Planes, where everything is either dead or on fire.’”

His sister laughed, her upswept eyes squinting in the sunlight. “You could even add in a do’s and don’t column.” She raked a hand through her dusty black hair. “Don’t chest kick a zombie unless you want to wear it as particularly murderous footwear while you beat it’s fellows into mush.”

“Laugh it up, Amy.” Enoch retorted, waving a finger at the younger. “Your time will come.”

“Where else have we been?” Amy inquired, tapping a finger to her chin as she stuck her staff to her back with some magic.

The suction sound it made caused her brother to shake his head and mutter, “I’ll never get used to that.”

“The Hissing Wastes.” Amy ticked off on her finger.

“Fucking horrible.” Enoch interjected miserably as he strapped his sword to his back. “Those dress clad cultists were every-fucking-where.”

“The Western Approach.”

“More like Isla Sorna, with all those fucking dinosaurs.” the nearly six and half foot tall man corrected, startling a giggle from Amy.

“And the Emerald Graves.” She concluded as Enoch started trailing in a random direction.

“Which just screams ‘don’t fucking visit’, it has  _Graves_ in the name.” he threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “I fucking hate this place.”

“Oh come on, the Emerald Graves weren’t so bad.” Amy argued, skipping to catch up to the older man who was stalking past a rickety looking fort and towards a smoldering building. “Trees, fresh water, plenty of places to camp.”

“Giant mutated monsters who wanted to squish us into jelly, and freedom fighters turned homicidal maniacs. And let’s not forget the ever friendly Elves of Mirkwood and fucking Smaug.” Enoch rebuked brows disappearing beneath his fringe.

“Alright there was that.” Amy conceded. Peering up into the sky, the sun was starting to sink below the horizon. They crested a rise overlooking a small group of dilapidated buildings. All of the roofs had caved in; a few were simply the reainine crumbles of the structures corners. Each house had been painted something colorful in the past. The paint had darkened from soot and the local weather’s abuse was slowly peeling it from the brick beneath.

They cautiously checked each building before settling into the most stable structure, a bed in the corner was covered by a small patch of roofing that miraculously remained intact. “I know you liked Val Royeaux. But we can’t live in a city.” Amy said, frowning up into the cloudy sky. “Not. Well. Not with me being all magical.”

Enoch sighed from next to her. “I know. I’m sorry I’m being so negative.” he awkwardly patted the younger girl’s head. “I just.” he sighed deeply, hands rubbing at his face vigorously. “This is my fault.”

“No it’s not.” Amy argued in a tone that suggested this conversation had been had many times. “You couldn't have expected-“

“I should have picked you up on time. We wouldn’t have fallen into the-that-thing.” Enoch snapped, shoulders shaking as he tried to reign in his temper.

Amy fell silent, remembering the circumstances. They had been on the highway; some four car pileup miles ahead had slowed everyone to a near stop. They had been stuck on a bridge in Northern California, on their way home from Amy’s Soccer practice when it had happened.

There had been reports. Blurry Youtube videos, far off Television footage. But they’d not seen one in person.  A Tear, green and jagged ripped open beneath the bridge. A ghoul breathing ice whirled out of it, followed by smaller greenish ghost like beings that launched fire indiscriminately. The Tear distorted everything, sending the bridge crumbling beneath the car. Enoch had quickly grabbed Amy, all but throwing her from the car and scrambling for safety. They hadn’t made it.

Amy didn’t think she would ever forget the feeling of the bridge crumbling beneath her feet. The tight (so tight it hurt) grip her Brother had on her hand. The electric feeling of falling through the green tear (a rift, they later found out) and into what they now knew to be the fade. She laced her fingers with Enoch’s squeezing so tight she heard a knuckle pop. “You’re only sixteen.” Enoch mumbled. “You should be in school, playing soccer and hanging out at malls.”

“But I’d rather be here with you.” Amy warbled. “Everyone knows you’re practically ancient once you hit twenty seven.” The comment earned her a light smack and a watery snort, “Someone has to make sure you don’t break a hip, Noogs.” She tossed in her affectionate childhood nickname for him. He loved it...

“You’re such a shit.” deep deep down.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Chapter 2: 

Kirkwall _9:34 Harvestmere_

 

Sneaking out of the Kirkwall Circle had to be the most badass thing Ezra had ever done in his short fifteen years of life. He had been dropped unceremoniously into Thedas, over a year ago. He had woken up in a small farming community in the Freemarches. On waking up, he had panicked and, to the horror of the lovely couple who had found him (and himself if he was being quite honest), accidentally set their drapes ablaze.

Needless to say the Templars showed up a few days later.

But that was then and this was now. It was the dead of night, his phylactery had been destroyed, and he looked nothing like himself. His hair was shorter; two shades darker than it had been thanks to some foul smelling dye he had scrubbed into it earlier that evening. Ezra readjusted the shield that hung on his back nervously. The sword felt awkward on his hip. He turned a thoughtful look onto the amicable rogue that strode confidently in front of him, leading him out of the gallows (in a blatant gesture that nearly screamed Fuck you). “Are you sure, this will work?” he asked for what seemed like the millionth time that evening.

“Relax, Yzma-“

Something in him recognized that name but he pushed it aside. “Ezra.” He corrected halfheartedly, the other man had yet to get his name right. Ezra was convinced that he was doing it on purpose.

“Whatever- This’ll work if you believe it will.” The rogue turned to shoot him a blinding smile. Ezra took that moment to really inspect the other man.

Sean was short, shorter than the average dwarf, but thin as a rail. Almost childlike in appearance, but the effect was ruined by the man’s surprisingly deep voice. He had tousled shaggy dark hair, smatterings of grey hairs streaked through it. His front teeth were slightly crooked. “Small changes often made the biggest differences.” He pointed out flippantly.

“Right.” Ezra tried to calm his heart as they drew closer to the checkpoint at the Gallow’s entrance. The pair of Templars stood imposingly on either side. The rogue looked unfazed by their presence and Ezra tried to emulate him.

“Halt!” One of them called out and Ezra jerked to a stop, his heart hammering in his throat. “Who goes there.” The guard demanded stepping forward imposingly; hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Robby, how’s it going brother?” The rogue greeted exuberantly. The Templar looked at him a moment, then turned to stare at his partner who shrugged in confusion before he returned his gaze to the almost impossibly small human man in front of him.

“What are you doing here Sean?”  ‘Robby’ asked, stance remaining stiff and cautious.

Sean waved his hand flippantly, “You know, an odd job or two for Athens.”

Robby huffed out a breath as Sean undoubtedly misnamed another person. “ _Athenril_ has you working a job?” the Templar looked between the two of us. “I’d heard she cut you loose months ago.”

“You’re way behind on the news Rob.” The rogue sighed theatrically, “She’s hired me on again, took some groveling, some hob knobbing-“

“Cut the Bullshit. What business do you have in the Gallows, dwarf?” The second Templar interjected stepping forward, clearly sick of the banter.

“Woah!” Sean held up a hand in offense. “That is a highly offensive term. I prefer, vertically challenged. Let’s keep it P.C. shall we?” He crossed his arms across his chest. Ezra couldn’t help but gape at the all too familiar acronym. The other man was from Earth too, he had to be. “My companion and I,” Sean gestured to the disguised mage who tried to look as unfazed and innocent as possible, “have concluded our negotiations and are just looking to go home to a glass of fine wine and a good book by the fire.” Both Templars levelled him with a disbelieving look.

"I highly doubt that." Robb refuted suspiciously.

Sean shrugged, "Believe what you will. Wine, Ale, books or women. What does it matter?" Ezra felt the tips of his ears burn from the implications.

“Papers.” Demanded the second Templar, their tone disgusted. Sean produced them with a flourish and stuffed them into Robby’s  hands.

“Those are for you to keep, my man.” He said confidently, winking at the second Templar and snagging Ezra’s wrist and tugging him along. “We have multiple copies.”

The Templar unfolded the papers and scanned them for the telltale Seal, “Everything looks to be in order.” He nodded to them as they edged their way towards the stairs. It was all Sean needed to dip low at the waist and haul Ezra down the stairs behind him.

“Hang on,” the second Templar snarled as we rounded a corner. “This literally just says he can do what he wants….is that the Viscount’s seal?”

“The Viscount’s even signed it-“ They broke into a run, diving down into the depths of Lowtown.

“So Parks and Rec huh?” Ezra inquired after they’d made their way into Darktown and were sure they were’nt being pursued.

Sean’s grin gave way to shock and then a more genuine smile replaced it. “Where you from kid?”

“Washington. You?” Ezra inquired a bright smile of his own stretching across his face.

“Rhode Island.” He paused, looking thoughtful, "So Evan-"

"Ezra."

"Whatever. You any good with say, healing spells?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't remember if Kirkwall Circle stowed their phylacteries in the city or elsewhere for security.


	3. Chapter 3

Amaranthine:

_ 9:32 the 17th of Haring _

When the demon had thrown him at the damn thing, He had honestly not known what to expect. To be torn apart like all items that came in contact with the Rifts, or if he was lucky he would just pass through it and land on the dirt underneath. The very last expectation he had was to be flung through it and into another world.

He remembered the fight (his father’s gun hadn’t felled it, his arrows made it screech but it still wasn’t enough); it was what came after that was a mystery. He woke up in a demon infested keep to an old man’s mutterings and a Grey Warden’s blade aimed at his throat. After a hefty interrogation the Grey Warden had determined he wasn’t a threat and had offered him a place to stay in the keep (Soldier’s Peak). He’d taken advantage of the solid walls in the midst of the blight.

He found that a crossbow wasn’t so different from a compact bow. It was odd to adjust to at first. But hunger and preservation were harsh teachers. Now he was an accomplished hunter, his wares sought after in markets for their quality.

“Ryan,” He jerked from his thoughts glancing at his companion who was holding two types of bracers in her hands. “I’m debating between the dragon bone and the Silverite, which do you think I should get?”

“Silverite.” He sighed in his heavy country accent. The dragon bone was likely fake he reasoned to himself, shifting uncomfortably and scanning the Amaranthine Market place for signs of trouble. They were drawing a few suspicious looks but that was to be expected. Despite the necessity of visiting the markets to peddle his own wares and restock on supplies, upgrade armor and the like, he often found it unsettling to be amongst society after spending so much time in the wilderness.

“One of these days I’ll get more than a one word answer out of you.” The woman intoned solemnly, her pointed ears twitching in annoyance.

He shrugged, hiding a small grin as she huffed and turned to make her purchase. He had run across Sarah in the Brecilian Forest almost a year ago. Dressed in a loose fitting T-Shirt, torn jeans, and a pair of worn Chucks; he felt like he was staring down a memory. She had insisted on accompanying him to the nearest major settlement, Denerim, and continued following him ever since.

“I’m serious. You’re far too quiet. Broody even. I would think a city would make you happier.” The mage grumbled, jerking her old bracers off and tugging the new ones on, buckling them slowly. “Society isn’t that bad you know.” He quirked his brow at her as they slowly made their way towards the tavern. “Don’t look at me in that tone of voice.” She objected shooting him a glare that was ruined by the wavering smile on her face. He rolled his eyes, pushing the door open and motioning the younger woman in before him.

She meandered up to the bar, unconcerned by the stares following her. She was still unused to the racism in the region. All the settlements they’d stopped at so far had been accommodating of her and himself without the need for posturing. Ryan spotted a few ugly looks among the crowd and sat next to her, leaning his back against the bar. “Two.” He motioned to the older barkeep. The man eyed Sarah but brought him the two drinks without any fuss.

“This is nice.” Sarah smiled to herself.

The unease was getting more visible, spreading to other patrons. A man got up and all but sprinted from the establishment. Ryan frowned, this wasn’t just because she was an elf, there was a hint of fear in the air. He almost smacked himself when he realized she was still wearing her staff. They were so used to being armed it didn’t even register for them when they walked into the city. It would be their luck that the Tavern’s tenants weren’t mage friendly.

“Sarah.” He murmured knowing she would hear him. She hummed, taking another swig of her drink. “Y-your staff.” Her eyes widened.

“Shit.” She hissed and tossed a few sovereigns on the counter. Ryan stood as well, mourning the loss of his drink.

“A man ran out earlier.” He stated quietly as they hastily made their way to the door, “P-Probably to grab the city guard.” He winced at his stutter. He’d never been to speech therapy as a kid, his family couldn’t afford it.

“Then we have to hurry.” She stated as they spilled out into the street, she turned towards the city gates and Ryan snagged her by the elbow and dragged her into an alley.

“N-not that way.” It got worse when he was in high stress situations. He scowled, pulling Sarah further into the alleyway. “If the g-guards have been alerted-“

She cussed softly as they pressed against the wall. “How the hell are we supposed to get out?”

Ryan looked pointedly at a drainage grate that led to a sewage system. Sarah squinted at it before horror bloomed across her features. “Is there any other way?” The clanking of armor caused them both to stiffen as Guards rushed past their hiding spot, a few Templars from the chantry on their heels.

“No.” Ryan stated firmly, incredibly pleased that he didn’t stutter. He frowned at her, it was either this or she'd be taken to the circle of Magi. Noone deserved that life.

"I know, we can't afford to he picky." She agreed as if reading his mind, turning and yanking the grate out of place. "Ugh."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: WARNING Mentions of/attempted suicide TRIGGERS GUYS!

**_ Okinawa, Japan, _ **

**_ Tuesday, 23 December, 2015 _ **

I took a breath, two, three. The green floating thing next to the slowly crumbling Japanese hospital seemed to pulse calmly, mesmerizing. It destroyed everything that got too close, quickly, efficiently. It was a good way to go. Nothing left to find, nothing left to save.

My heart was beating wildly in my chest. I would finally end it. Finally be reunited with my wife. I know she wouldn’t want me to do this. She would want me to live my life. But no one else had compared to her, no one else could compare to her. My life was empty, meaningless. I can’t live without her.

I extended my left foot over the edge of the building, turning my gaze skyward. The sun was setting. I let myself fall.

**_ Kirkwall Chantry _ **

**_ Date Unknown _ **

It wasn’t painless, _Oh god please make it stop. End this. Please if you ever loved your children send me into her arms-_ Everything was on fire, my lungs were filled with liquid, which bubbled up my throat and into my mouth, dribbling down my chin. Blood. Screams all around me. I was in Hell. This must be Hell. Red everything was red. She wouldn’t be in hell, she was too good. Too devout. _No, no, no, no, wrong. I need to be with **her** , I was supposed to spend eternity with **her**_. How had everything gone so wrong?

Hands gently pushed against my Pulse “GET A HEALER!” a face, old and kind. “Can you speak?”

_“-Blood magic?” Another voice to the side. Disgust, fear._

_“Must be.”_

_“How is he still alive?“_

“I’m not.” I said it out loud. The woman, for she was a woman, leaned in to catch my words. Barely there, wisps of breath.

“Over here! Quickly!” She straightened catching someone’s attention. My vision was tunneling. Clanking and yelling echoed around me. I looked up and saw **her** then. Hands extended in front of her holding a bowl of fire.

_“Andrea?”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Soooo yeah. This happened. And yes. His dead wife's name is pretty damn close to Andraste. Though he may be projecting her face onto the statue. They’re not that detailed in game from what I recall. Also took kind of artistic license with the statue.
> 
> Also I’m sorry. (But also not)


End file.
